


feels like home when i'm with you

by demonglass



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: America AU, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, M/M, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-25 12:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30089112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonglass/pseuds/demonglass
Summary: Years pass and seasons change, and through it all, Donghyuck always loves Mark.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 13
Kudos: 101





	feels like home when i'm with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suneev](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suneev/gifts).



> desy dearest i hope you have a birthday week as sweet and lovely and wonderful as you are ♡ it is such a joy to be your friend, you bring so much beauty and light to this world, not to mention so much taylor swift to my twitter timeline ^.^ in that vein, i hope this little taylor swift songfic brings you a smile or a little bit of joy as my way of thanking you for all the times you've made me happy ♡ you are so good and you deserve the world darling ♡ i'm sending you so much love ♡♡ happy early birthday!!!
> 
> [it's nice to have a friend](https://youtu.be/eaP1VswBF28)

Donghyuck is ten years old, and he’s one of the shortest and youngest boys in his class.

It’s been this way for as long as he can remember. He’d been such a tiny toddler that his father had wanted him to stay an extra year in preschool so he wouldn’t feel out of his league in elementary school, but – as his mother tells the story – he had insisted in his most grown up voice that he was _ready to be a big kid,_ and so into kindergarten he went. A year later, the town was redistricted, and there were so few children left that Donghyuck’s small first grade class was combined with the even smaller second grade class. 

This was when he met Mark, and why years later, even though he’s still shorter than half the girls in his grade, he has never regretted skipping out on an extra year of dress up and free play and nap time in the first floor of the local methodist.

Mark is in sixth grade now, nearly a year older than Donghyuck, but he’s one of the smallest and youngest kids in his class as well. The two of them are so different in so many ways, but here they make a perfect pair. Donghyuck wouldn’t want anyone else as a best friend.

When the school bell rings at the end of the day, Donghyuck stuffs all his things in his backpack and is a whirlwind through the cubbies, pulling on his coat and hat and gloves and boots, and then he’s out the door. Mark is already waiting for him in the hall, knocking his bag against the wall that separates their two classrooms and fiddling with the ends of his scarf. He lights up when he sees Donghyuck.

“I got here first again,” he says with a satisfied grin. 

Donghyuck huffs, and the heavy soles of his boots clunk against the linoleum floor as he walks over to Mark. “That’s just because Ms. Kim lets you guys stop working before the bell.”

Mark shrugs, and they start walking down the hall together, heading for the door on the far end of the building that will let them out past the busses. Mark has his hands stuffed in his coat pockets, and he looks a bit distracted as they reach the exit and have to wait for a class of first graders to file out the door ahead of them. The teacher holding the door waves them out as well, and Donghyuck smiles politely until the cold air hits his face and he hikes his shoulders up to his ears and picks up the pace. He’d forgotten to bring a scarf to school, and he can feel the regret acutely in his already freezing neck.

There’s a thin layer of fresh snow on the sidewalk from the flurries that had fallen throughout the school day, and the sky is a thick, heavy gray overhead, but it seems that the clouds have given up all they had to offer. Donghyuck’s hopes for a Friday snow day melt away like the slush under the busses.

Donghyuck veers away from the chaos of the bus line and marches up to the teacher blocking the sidewalk that leads down the drive. “Donghyuck and Mark,” he says, just like every day. “Lee.”

The teacher looks at his list of all the students with permission to walk home, and after a moment he nods and steps aside. “Be safe, boys. It’s a little slippery out there.”

“Will will!” Donghyuck says, at the same time Mark says—

“Thank you.”

The two of them head down the sidewalk and the rumble of the busses and a hundred different voices fades into the background. Donghyuck kicks up small piles of snow. “My footprints are bigger than yours,” he notes after a long minute of silence, pointing at the trail of steps behind them.

Mark spins around so quickly he nearly loses his balance. “No they’re not. You just drag your feet so they look longer.”

“Nuh-uh.” Donghyuck lifts up one of his snow boots and shakes it. “Look at my feet. They’re bigger.”

“Your _boots_ are bigger.”

“Yeah. So my feet are bigger too.”

“No, ‘cuz your boots don’t fit you. They’re your godsister’s old ones, aren’t they?”

Donghyuck frowns. Mark is right. These _are_ Minji’s old snow boots, and they _are_ a little too big for him, even with the itchy wool socks that his grandma knitted for him. “Nobody likes a know it all,” he mutters.

Mark shoves his shoulder, but he’s careful to make sure it’s not not hard enough to knock Donghyuck over or make him lose his balance, so Donghyuck barely feels it through the padding of his coat. He does, however, finally notice that Mark’s hands are bare.

“What happened to your gloves?” he asks, petty argument already forgotten.

Mark looks down at his hands and then shoves them back into his coat pockets. “I lost them.”

 _“Mark!”_ A wave of exasperation washes over Donghyuck. It’s freezing out—literally! This is no time to be walking around without gloves on. 

“What?” Mark whines. “It’s not like I did it on purpose!”

“Still,” Donghyuck huffs. Mark’s hands must be frozen by now, even stuffed in his coat pockets. Donghyuck can’t have that; if Mark’s hands freeze and fall off, who will play video games with him? Donghyuck pulls his left glove off and shoves it at Mark. “Here.”

“Huh?” Mark says intelligently. 

“Take it,” Donghyuck explains, “for your dumb cold hand.” He glances sidelong at Mark and finds his face flushed red, but that’s probably just from the cold.

“Are you sure?” Mark asks. He’s always so hesitant.

“Yeah.” Donghyuck pushes the glove into Mark’s side so he has no choice but to take it. “Just say thanks like a normal person.”

“Thanks,” Mark mumbles, wriggling his pink fingers into the glove.

“Don’t mention it,” Donghyuck tells him. His dad says that a lot. Donghyuck thinks it’s a fun thing to say. Maybe he should do even more nice things so he can say it more often. He holds out his now gloveless left hand to Mark.

Mark stares at his open palm. “I don't have anything to give you.”

“I guess the cold makes you extra dumb,” Donghyuck says. “Just hold my hand.”

“W-what?” Mark splutters.

“It’s supposed to be warmer. C’mon, my parents do it all the time.”

Mark makes another intelligible sound and Donghyuck’s cheeks start to feel warm despite the cold air. “Don’t make it weird. I hold my siblings' hands all the time.” Donghyuck makes a grabbing motion with his hands to drive the point home, and Mark makes one last meek noise before closing his hand around Donghyuck’s.

Mark’s hand is positively freezing. Donghyuck curls his fingers around Mark’s and pulls him closer so he can rub the palm of his glove against Mark’s knuckles. For once, Mark is silent, so when Donghyuck grows tired of the rubbing, he stuffs their joined hands into the large pocket of his own coat the way his parents do. It’s a tight squeeze, but they both fit—one of the perks of this hand-me-down coat from a cousin that he hasn’t quite grown all the way into yet.

When he receives no protest from Mark, Donghyuck smiles, pleased. He quite likes getting his way. “Imagine if you didn’t have me. Your hands would be so cold.”

“My mom said we can get me a new pair of gloves on Wednesday,” Mark mutters. “That’s when the thrift store has their sale. My hands would only be cold for a couple of days. I think I’d survive.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Hey! My mom says it’s economical...or something. It’s not stupid!”

“No,” Donghyuck shakes his head, “not going to the thrift store. I mean, _yeah,_ going to the thrift store, but not because there’s anything wrong with it. I mean it’s stupid that you have to buy new ones. Just come over and get a pair from my house. We have like a whole bucket of them. Then you won’t have to wait until Wednesday.”

“Really?” Mark asks. “Your mom is okay with that?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “She won’t even know they’re missing if we don’t tell her, but yeah. She loves you. I think she wishes you were her actual son.”

Mark laughs that awkward laugh of his and Donghyuck smiles. His mom might like Mark a heck of a lot, but there’s no way she likes him more than he does. 

“So is that good? You can come over and get some gloves and we can hang out?” Donghyuck tries not to sound too hopeful.

Mark shrugs, and his hand shifts against Donghyuck’s, but his grip doesn’t loosen. “Yeah. Sounds like fun.”

It’s as simple as that. They walk the rest of the fifteen minutes to the street where Donghyuck lives, and then go tumbling into the warmth of his house together. All the while, Donghyuck can’t help thinking just how nice it is to have a friend like Mark.

— 

Junior High is… different from elementary school. It’s bigger, for starters, and _regional._ Donghyuck no longer has only classes with the same thirty kids from his corner of town, but Donghyuck loves meeting new people, and he loves making new friends. Seventh grade is good.

It’s especially good when Donghyuck discovers that his elective art class is open to seventh _and_ eighth graders, and that Mark is in the class with him as well. Their teacher makes them switch seats every few weeks, but for half the semester, they spend just as much time whispering to each other as they do working. The other half, when they aren’t next to each other, they spend passing notes back and forth when Miss Brown isn’t looking.

Mark tells Donghyuck once on the bus home from school that he’s a bad influence. It’s the day after parent-teacher conferences, and apparently Miss Brown notices more of their gigging than she lets on during class. Donghyuck knows it’s true, but, _“you’re just as bad as I am!”_

“Am not,” Mark insists. “Miss Brown said I’m a good student. Just distractible.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said about me, too. Admit it, you’re just as much of a disruption to my learning as I am to yours.”

Mark crosses his arms, but the bus hits a pothole in the road and when they bounce, his arms come apart again. “Am not.”

“You so are,” Donghyuck insists. “You’re just in denial ‘cuz you _like_ being a goody-two-shoes teacher’s pet all the time. You can’t admit that you’re not as perfect as you want them to think you are.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Mark says with a frown. “And no I’m not!”

“Whatever you say,” Donghyuck sing-songs in the voice that says _I know I’m right, I just don’t feel like dignifying you with any more argument._ He knows Mark hates it. Sometimes he does it just to rile him up.

“You are so annoying,” Mark huffs.

“Yeah, and yet you’re still coming over to my house to use my Playstation,” Donghyuck grins.

Mark glares at him, then lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Whatever. I’m gonna beat your ass so hard you won’t ever invite me over again.”

Donghyuck snorts. “Sure you will.”

Mark shoves him right as the bus lurches to a stop, and Donghyuck falls half into the aisle before Mark scrambles to grab his arm and drag him back into their seat. “You’re lucky I like you,” he grumbles.

“Luck has nothing to do with it. Just like it has nothing to do with me beating you at Battlefront.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Mark looks out the window at the bright red leaves on all the trees lining the road. “Let’s see if you can say that again in half an hour.”

They fall silent until the bus rolls to a stop on Donghyuck’s street, and they haul ass down the packed aisle, dodging shoulders and knees and heaving their backpacks along, all the way down the steps and to the sidewalk. 

“Man, it’s like a war zone in there,” Mark mutters.

“Tell me about it,” Donghyuck laughs, and it’s like they weren’t even bickering and then ignoring each other ten minutes ago. 

They make it to Donghyuck’s driveway, and Mark shoots Donghyuck a lopsided grin at the chalk covering the asphalt. “You should show Miss Brown _this_ masterpiece,” he says, waving a hand at the multicolored scribbles Donghyuck’s baby brother had drawn over the flowers Donghyuck and his younger sister had worked on together.

“Yeah, yeah,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Come on, let’s settle this on Naboo.”

“Oh, you’re on,” Mark says, chasing after him as he runs into the house.

They end up abandoning their homework – it’s a Friday night, it’s fine! Donghyuck insists – and playing video games well past dinner. After they pass “best out of seven” Donghyuck loses track of their score. It doesn’t matter. 

Mark ends up staying the night, and when they’re dragging a sleeping bag out of the hall closet for him, they unearth the tents they’d set up in the yard over the summer, back when Donghyuck’s godsister had stayed with them for a month while her parents travelled for work, and Donghyuck had given up his room to her in favor of spending all of July outdoors or at the mall or at Mark’s. Donghyuck jokes about trying to set them up in his room now, and the next thing he knows, he’s lying on a sleeping bag on his carpet, crammed into a tent with Mark, just for the hell of it. 

It’s a tight fit and a little uncomfortable, and they’d complained the whole way through putting it up, but in the end they both end up under the orange nylon roof anyway. Donghyuck shuts his eyes and listens to the sound of their breathing, slightly out of rhythm. It’s weird. He doesn’t think he could stand to do this with anyone other than Mark. He finds he kind of likes it.

It’s nice to have a friend.

— 

Somehow, they survive high school. Mark makes the soccer team and Donghyuck falls in love with the arts. Mark is on the student council and Donghyuck joins the debate club. Mark plays the flute for the school orchestra because his parents convince him not to quit, and Donghyuck is in every musical. Some things change. Some things stay the same.

The first day of June comes at the end of Donghyuck’s junior year. Donghyuck has been dreading this for months. 

The sky is light pink, painted with wispy clouds, and the air is still warm with the promise of the coming summer. Donghyuck tucks his legs under himself and stares out at the sunset. The shingles of the roof dig into his legs, but he doesn’t mind all that much. Mark is silent beside him, so Donghyuck stays quiet as well. He knows he can be a chatterbox, but he knows how to read a room. He’s not sure what he’d say now anyway. 

_I’m worried about what will happen when you leave for college. I’m scared you’ll go too far away and we won’t be best friends anymore._

That’s not exactly a great conversation starter. So they sit in silence, listening to the crickets come to life in the grass down below. Donghyuck isn’t sure how long they stay there, just soaking in the summer breeze, watching the sky tint purple. It feels like an eternity and yet he knows it will be over in the blink of an eye. This is what all of junior year had felt like: trying to drink in every beautiful moment while holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m not playing soccer in college,” Mark finally says. When Donghyuck glances sideways, he finds Mark staring up at a puff of orange right above them.

“I kinda figured,” Donghyuck says softly. Three years on varsity and it ends just like that.

“Yeah,” Mark’s voice is lower now, matching Donghyuck’s. He doesn’t say anything else.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” Donghyuck whispers. 

“Yeah,” Mark echoes. He’s always wanted to get out of town, but Donghyuck figured that meant going to school on the other end of the state, not leaving the country.

“Canada, huh,” Donghyuck breathes. No matter how many times he says it, he doesn’t get any more used to it.

“Yeah.”

“You broken?” Donghyuck jokes. His voice is too close to a whisper for it to land quite right.

Mark tries for a laugh. It comes out as just a sharp exhale, but maybe that’s for the best. The air feels too delicate to be broken by his usual bright laughter. “Just…” he trails off, like he’s searching for the right words. “I’ve been stressed out lately.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck murmurs. “Me too.”

“It feels so weird.” Mark leans back on his hands, kicking his feet out so he looks like he’s sunning at the beach. It’d be a funny sight if Donghyuck’s chest didn’t feel like it was caving in just a little bit. “I can’t believe I’m done. I felt like that was the longest four years of my life, but somehow also like I sleepwalked through half of it and missed it.”

“I’m not sure that’s a word,” Donghyuck says. “Sleepwalked. It doesn’t sound real.” He’s being a dick. He doesn’t care about whether it’s a word or not, but it’s easier to poke at Mark than try to unpack everything clogging up his lungs like funeral flowers. How can he mourn the death of their childhoods when he himself hasn’t even started his senior year. How can he admit that this isn’t about what he _has_ lost, but what he’s afraid he _will_ lose.

“Shut up, dude.” Mark shoves his shoulder. “You’re such a dick.”

Donghyuck crosses his arms over his chest. “I know,” he mutters. Then, quieter, “Sorry.” He takes a breath, then another, uncrosses his arms and shifts, pulling his knees up to his chest. “I know what you mean, I think.”

“Thanks,” Mark says softly. He knocks his toes together and sighs. “It’s like… I don’t know… watching the sunset or something. One minute it’s all pink and you can still see the sun and you think you’ve still got plenty of time to take it all in, but then you just blink and all of a sudden it just…” he lifts a hand to gesture vaguely at the purple-blue sky, light fading with each passing moment as the sun sinks down.

“Gone,” Donghyuck finishes for him. He looks over at Mark and sees him frown, eyes on the horizon of dark roofs and treetops for a long moment before he glances at Donghyuck and nods. He looks so forlorn, Donghyuck doesn’t even have the heart to tease him for being an obvious English Lit major. Something uncomfortable swims in the pit of his stomach. “At least you don’t have to take anymore classes now,” he tries to lighten the mood. “I’m jealous.” The graduating class had their last day today, two weeks before the rest of the school. 

Mark tries for a smile, but it doesn’t come out quite right. “Yeah. Lucky me.” 

Donghyuck purses his lips. He’s a great debater, public speaker, group project leader, but here, up on the roof with Mark, he’s not sure what to say. He’s not sure there even _is_ a right thing to say. So they sit in silence as the crickets down below grow to a symphony. 

They stay there until nearly all the color has drained from the sky, silent until Donghyuck finally can’t stand it any longer.

“Will we still talk?” he asks, at the same time Mark asks— 

“Will you miss me?”

“What?” Donghyuck asks. He can’t have heard Mark right. 

Mark looks at him, sheepish in the moonlight. “Will you miss me? Like, when I’m gone?”

Donghyuck stares at him. “Of course.” His brows draw in and he can feel his mouth curling down despite his efforts to keep his face even. “You—you’re my best friend. We’ve been friends for like eleven years. Fuck, we’ve been together longer than my aunts have been married. What do you mean _will you miss me?”_

Mark’s eyes flicker away and his shoulders hike up towards his ears. “I dunno. It’s just… you’ve got all your other friends too. I figured…” he trails off, swallows. “Maybe you wouldn’t miss me so much since you’ve still got everyone here.”

Donghyuck can’t believe what he’s hearing. _Him_ not missing Mark? It sounds absurd. “What the hell do you think best friend means when I say it?” Donghyuck asks incredulously. “You… I haven’t left you alone since first fucking grade, Mark.” He wraps his arms around his knees and looks away, glaring at the darkening skyline. _“You’re_ the one who’s always leaving. If anything, I thought you’d be the one to forget about me. It’d be like freshman year of high school all over again, except this time you won’t still live ten minutes away, and I won’t be coming after you in a year, so what then? You know, like maybe this only works because we’re always together. Maybe it won’t work once you’re gone.”

“What?” Mark’s tone is impossible to read. After all the time they’ve spent together, all the intricacies of Mark’s voice that Donghyuck has learned over the years, not being able to tell what he’s thinking in this moment feels like free falling without knowing if there’s a parachute strapped to his back.

“I’m not saying it again,” Donghyuck mutters. He probably shouldn’t have even said it in the first place. For once, he doesn’t want to fight: it wouldn’t be fun this time. It _isn’t_ fun this time.

“Donghyuck…” Mark’s voice is so soft it’s hard to bear. Suddenly the falling night is a relief. This would be so much harder if they could see each other clearly. Donghyuck’s not sure _what_ he would say if he could see the look on Mark’s face. He’s not sure he’d be able to say anything at all. 

“Hey.” Mark shuffles closer and Donghyuck tenses until Mark touches his hand with hesitant, gentle fingers, and every coiled muscle in Donghyuck’s body melts into honey. “You’re my best friend.”

Donghyuck keeps his lips pressed together.

“Donghyuck,” Mark says again, “you don’t have to worry. Seriously. If it’s me moving on from you that you’re stressed about, you can breathe easy. You’re… you’re kind of irreplaceable.”

Donghyuck’s throat tightens. His hand feels hot where Mark is touching him. “Kind of?” he manages to get out.

Mark laughs softly, but it sounds thick. Sounds like maybe Mark’s throat is closing up just like Donghyuck’s. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just don't want you to get a big head like me.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cuz you’re _so_ full of yourself,” Donghyuck retorts without any bite. 

“Right.” Mark lets out that gentle, aching laugh again, and without warning, Donghyuck feels close to tears. “Seriously, you don’t have to worry.”

Mark’s hand is still on Donghyuck’s, and something in Mark’s reassurances gives Donghyuck the nerve to shift and slip his hand into Mark’s, holding it properly. Mark inches closer until his arm is pressed against Donghyuck’s, warmth spreading between them as the breeze turns chilly.

“Remember when we were kids and you lost your gloves when we were walking home?” Donghyuck asks, because reminiscing about the past is easier than thinking about the future.

Mark is quiet for a moment. “I do,” he says just when Donghyuck is starting to think maybe he’d forgotten.

“That was the first time you ever let me hold your hand for real, wasn’t it?”

“Probably,” Mark says, voice low. 

“Everything was simpler back then, wasn’t it? It was always just like, _you lost your gloves? Don’t worry, I’ll give you one of mine. You wanna hang out? Yeah, sounds like fun.”_ Donghyuck sighs, lays his head on Mark’s shoulder. “We weren’t worried about anything. Just did whatever we wanted to. I wish it could be like that again.”

For another long moment, Mark says nothing. Donghyuck can practically hear him thinking, though. He’s comfortable leaning against Mark, holding his hand, so he waits. For Mark, he’ll always wait as long as he can.

“Do you really wish it was still like that?” Mark finally asks. “That we still just did things without worrying about what might happen?”

Donghyuck watches a light flicker on in a window across the street. _Does he really want that?_ He thinks about all the times he would have pulled Mark aside and kissed him if he hadn’t ever been worried about what it would do to them, to their friendship. “Yeah,” he says, and it’s the truth. 

Mark makes a small sound at the back of his throat, and falls silent again. Donghyuck wonders if that’s it, if this is just one of those times Mark is a little weird for no reason, because that’s just how he is. He lets out a breath and closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of Mark’s body moving gently with his every breath, on the sound of the crickets down below.

Just as Donghyuck has settled into the silence, Mark breaks it again. “Okay,” he says. There’s a slight tremor in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “I’m gonna say something, then.”

Donghyuck feels himself stop breathing for a moment. His eyes spring wide open again. “Okay,” he whispers.

Mark draws in a shaky breath and Donghyuck holds his hand tighter. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.” 

All the air catches in Donghyuk’s lungs. He tries to swallow and finds he can’t. “Define _pretty sure,”_ he all but croaks.

Mark exhales, palm clammy against Donghyuck’s. “Totally sure. I, um, never said anything ‘cuz I didn’t want to screw things up but–” he lets out a slightly strangled laugh “–I guess I just realized things are gonna change no matter what and, uh, I’d rather risk them changing for the better? And I really hope this doesn’t make things weird because I know we still have prom on Sunday and your birthday next week and obviously I don’t want to lose you or anything so maybe I should have thought this through more, but, um, I hope that you still holding my hand is a good thing, but I’m kind of starting to freak out now, so if you could—”

“Mark,” Donghyuck says, squeezing his hand and effectively cutting off his tailspin. “It’s okay. Please breathe. I—I thought it was kind of obvious that I’ve basically been in love with you for forever, too.”

Mark does finally breathe, far too loud in the quiet of the night. “Define basically,” he says in a near whisper.

“Totally,” Donghyuck confesses.

“Well,” Mark says, voice the brightest it’s been all night, “we really are a perfect pair.”

Donghyuck laughs lightly, then can’t stop. He can’t believe it. The sheer momentousness of the situation hits him and he dissolves into hysterical, hiccuping giggles. He leans into Mark’s side and laughs until he can’t breathe, until he starts crying instead. He doesn’t know if it’s relief or terror.

Mark holds tightly to his hand and takes his weight, lets everything bubble up and pour out of Donghyuck until he’s gone quiet again, shaking against Mark. 

“Are you okay?” Mark asks, and Donghyuck realizes he’s trembling too, sounds just as hoarse as he feels.

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck admits. “I don’t know.”

Mark rubs his thumb against the back of Donghyuck’s hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

Donghyuck sniffles, burying his face in Mark’s shoulder. “Can we just—can we just stay here a little longer? And…” he reaches for Mark’s other hand, lacing their fingers together while he slips his right hand free so he can wrap it around Mark’s waist. “I’m just gonna hold on to you for a bit, if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” Mark murmurs, shifting so he can drape his free arm over Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Whatever you want.”

Donghyuck nods, focusing on breathing in and out. Focusing on Mark’s arm around him, hand holding his, the warmth of his skin against the cooling night air. All he should feel right now is overwhelming relief. He’s in love with Mark and it’s not the end of the world because Mark loves him too. This is the part in every movie where they get together and the orchestra swells and then it all ends. 

Except this doesn’t feel like a romcom moment. This _can’t_ be the end, because life isn’t stopping here. Mark is leaving the country in three months. Donghyuck has another year of highschool. He doesn’t know what he wants to do after graduation but he knows he is not moving to Quebec. 

Something heavy settles in Donghyuck’s gut. It’s incredible that all this time, Mark has felt the same thing for him that he has felt for Mark, but maybe… maybe that doesn’t matter. Maybe it isn’t enough.

“Donghyuck?” Mark whispers just before Donghyuck dives off the deep end.

“Yeah?”

“You know that stuff I said? About how you’re my best friend and I could never replace you? I really mean that. And I would still mean that if you were my boyfriend. Stop me if I’m totally off base, but it feels like you’re still stressed out about what’s gonna happen when I leave.”

Donghyuck doesn’t stop him. He gives his hand a small squeeze.

“I’m stressed too, you know. And I know I’m only seventeen and I don’t know _anything,_ really, in the grand scheme of things, but I know that I love you. After my parents, you were the first person that really even taught me what love _is._ Please don’t laugh at me for that. I know that you’re incredible and you annoy the ever-loving crap out of me and you… you’re really special to me. You’re my favorite person. You’re my best friend. I know I’m gonna miss you so fucking much in the fall, but I really don’t want to start missing you yet if I don’t have to. We still have, what, like ninety whole days before my parents drive me to school? That’s like…” he trails off for a moment. “A whole fourth of a year!”

“Sure is a good thing you’re not a math major,” Donghyuck murmurs.

Mark lets out an exasperated laugh. “Right. Well my point is, we have time. And it won’t be the end of the world when I leave. It’s not like I’m dropping off the face of the earth or anything. We can still talk every day. I’ll still be coming home for break. We have other friends now and we’ll make more – at least, I _hope_ I can make more – but what I’m saying is that _no one_ is ever going to be _you._ You’re the one person that’s seen me through everything so far. I don’t see any reason why you can’t be the person that sees me through everything that’s still to come.” He exhales, sagging against Donghyuck. “Okay. That’s my speech.”

“You sure are a sweet-talker, Mark Lee,” Donghyuck says, lifting his head gingerly out of the crook of Mark’s neck. He lifts both their hands to rub at the drying tear tracks on his cheeks and finally meets Mark’s eyes. The moonlight makes them shine, and a smile tugs at Donghyuck’s lips automatically. 

“Did my sweet talking work?” Mark asks, a small smile on his face.

Donghyuck squeezes his hand again. “Depends on what you were trying to get out of it.”

“I just wanted to reassure you. And myself too, I guess. To just get everything out. Better out than in, y’know.”

“Mm,” Donghyuck hums. “Shrek.”

Mark laughs. “I was thinking Harry Potter, but yeah. Shrek.”

“Classic,” Donghyuck sighs. He’s been thinking about this all wrong, hasn’t he? All the best stories are about journeys, not endings. They’re about making things work despite the odds and obstacles. All his favorite stories are about love, about following where the heart leads. Donghyuck knows where his heart leads him. “So… was there anything else you were hoping to get from all your sweet talking?”

Mark tilts his head. He makes a silly-looking thinking face – brows furrowed and lips pursed – before his features smooth into another small smile. “Maybe a boyfriend, if you’re game.”

“If I’m game,” Donghyuck echoes with a snort. “God, you’re really lucky you’re cute.”

Mark grins like the sun breaking over the hills on a summer morning. Donghyuck knows he’s not perfect because _no one_ is perfect, but in this moment, he is the exception. Mark is absolutely perfect. “Does that mean you’ll kiss me?”

It does. 

Donghyuck kisses Mark right there on the roof of his house until the sky is pitch black and the chill in the air makes Mark shivers. They tumble back through Donghyuck’s bedroom window and spend the night gaming and giggling just like they used to. The only difference is that now Mark can distract Donghyuck with kisses rather than just kicks, and they don’t have a curfew keeping them in—they’re there just because they want to be.

Donghyuck doesn’t think he’ll ever stop marveling at how nice it is to have a best friend. 

— 

Donghyuck is twenty years old, wearing his tux from prom, dug out of deep storage in his mother’s closet. Church bells ring and Mark takes his hand, and Donghyuck is smiling so wide it hurts just a little bit as they watch his godsister and her wife toss bouquets into the crowd behind them. 

Family and friends throw rice down the aisle and it lands over the flower petals like a fine layer of snow coating the grass path. The brides are whisked away for pictures, and the guests disperse into the church parking lot for a potluck meal served on paper plates and folding card tables. It’s a beautiful summer day, and it blurs into a beautiful summer night.

Everyone dances until they can’t stand to wear their nice shoes any longer, sings and shouts until the old town square is ringing with life. There are coolers of ice cream in the back of someone’s truck, and by the end of the night, there’s a whole bin full of empty cartons and cone boxes and plastic spoons.

When the sun has long since disappeared, and people are finally starting to trickle off in pairs or groups of two or three, Donghyuck brings Mark back home. 

( Later, Mark will try to debate that really _he_ was the one who brought Donghyuck home, hand at the small of his back with every step because Donghyuck gets sleepy when he drinks, but Donghyuck argues that the details aren’t important. What really matters, he insists, is that they crashed into his bed together and spent nearly all weekend there, sleeping in and playing games just like they used to. Donghyuck wins the debate. )

It’s been three summers since that night on the roof, and some things have changed. Donghyuck graduated, made it into a state college a couple hours south of Quebec, got used to seeing Mark’s face on a small screen rather than in person. He’s switched his major twice so far, left the country for the first time (then a second and third), and he’s finally seen Niagara Falls in person. He’s kissed Mark a thousand more times than he’d ever dreamed of as a teenager. 

He’s discovered that maybe sometimes people are _meant_ to spend time apart, so they can learn what coming home feels like.

And, of course, some things have stayed the same. Donghyuck loves Mark, and Mark loves him. It’s the two of them against the world, always, and it is a wonderful thing. 

It’s so nice to have a friend. 


End file.
